


On The Long and Winding Path

by ritsuko



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Caught in the Act, Gay Sex, Gender Dysphoria, Kaer Morhen, Kissing, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Making Out, Promises, Self-Reflection, Surgery, Teens, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Trans Male Character, Waiting Rooms, binding, mlm, top surgery, young Witchers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22283818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritsuko/pseuds/ritsuko
Summary: Through the ages, Eskel and Geralt have always been there for each other. Though the path may take them away from each other when the blossoms come, they always rush home when the leaves turn to fall into each others arms.EskelxTrans!Geralt
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 5
Kudos: 87





	1. Spring, 1175

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This work features trans!Geralt. He and Eskel have a thing. If you don't like either of those things, you should probably not read this fic. 
> 
> Full disclosure, I am writing this as a trans man, with basis around my life experiences. My experiences as a trans man are not everyone else's, so I can only write what I know and try to be as respectful as possible. No one ever takes the same path, and I will try to preface each chapter if there are any things that might be triggering in them.
> 
> Also, this chapter takes place around the time of them being 15-ish. They have not done anything more than cuddle. I will not be writing them doing anything more than written here. I do have more planned, but this chapter will be by far the tamest. Thanks for your interest!

He catches Eskel staring at him in the mirror, but as soon as their gazes meet, he blushes and looks away. Geralt quickly spins on his heel, fighting the urge to cover his chest. 

“What?” He snaps, more venom than he intends, but he's just so caught off guard by the moment that he doesn't know what to think at first. 

“It’s nothing.” Eskel mumbles, cheeks clearly reddening. Geralt grimaces in frustration. Even with all of the herbs growing Witcher boys take, even after the Trial of the Grasses, his breasts grew. Not much, but the lumps of saggy tissue are a distinct reminder of everything he isn’t, and doesn’t want to be seen as. 

He storms over in front of where his closest friend is sitting on his bed and stands, bare chested, hands firmly planted on his hips. It's as if he's daring his best friend to try it again, but suddenly every other place in the room is more interesting to look at than Geralt. He grimly watches his friend, whose own bare chest is becoming more and more defined every day. A smattering of dark hairs curl across his pecs and lower, below his belly button into his pants. Geralt can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. 

The silence stretches uncomfortably.

He can take it no longer. “You were looking at them.” Geralt accuses, and the other teen recoils as if he's been slapped. Immediately, he regrets it, but at the same time, the thought that Eskel would stare at him like that. . .

"Look," Eskel turns three shades brighter and squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s not what you’re thinking, okay?” 

“Then what is it?” Geralt snaps out. They’ve grown closer, so much closer since they were the only ones in their class to pass the Trial of the Grasses. Since Geralt had been subjected to extra testing. He can remember Eskel, worried sick, holding him close and stroking his silver streaked hair, beds pushed together. Since they'd cuddled well into the nights. Since they stopped pushing the beds apart in the morning.

It was only natural they’d started kissing. Chaste at first, but increasingly hungrier, searching for something they were both missing in each other. 

And Geralt would let Eskel hold him, stroke him, look at him everywhere, except a couple of places. The places that were different.

It was unspoken. 

Eskel finally looks up, genuine fear in his eyes. “I’m really sorry. I just- you’re so handsome. Sometimes I don’t know if you see it.” He whispers brokenly. “Please, I won’t look at any part of you that you don’t want me to ever again. I’m sorry. Please don't be mad at me.”

Geralt is a little taken aback. 

"You mean, you weren't looking at me because you think I look. . ." He tapers off, and Eskel cocks his head to the side in confusion. When he finds his voice again, he can only whisper. ". . . girly?"

Eskel looks puzzled. “Why the hell would I think that?” He snorts out, looking at the white haired witcher-in-training as if he's grown another head. 

He feels his own cheeks flushing. 

Realization dawns over Eskel's features as he sees his best friend's uncertainty. His mouth tugs up into a wry smile. “Geralt, you’re the least feminine guy I know. You’re strong and brave and insanely fast and can burp and fart and arm wrestle most of us under the table. Who fucking cares about your body? You’re every bit a man as I am. You always have been. You always will be. And to hell with anyone who says any different.” Eskel states, and Geralt feels warm to his core. 

How could he have ever doubted the brunette? No matter what, Eskel always told him the truth, always trusted him. Suddenly he's so overcome with feeling for the brunette it feels like he's going to shake out of his skin.

He’s straddling the other boy before he knows it, mouths crashing together. He’s usually not so forceful, and it takes Eskel aback a moment, before the other boy returns the kiss with a fervor.

Tenderly, his fingers reach up to card through Eskel's soft brown hair, eliciting a soft whimper from the other boy. 

The presence ot the other boy's fingers ghost along his back, as if asking for some silent approval before daring to touch him. The action makes something deep inside him sing. He arches back into those hands, delighting in the feeling of calloused fingers against his skin.

_you want me_

He thinks it, even if he can’t say it aloud. 

_you want me for me_

It almost brings tears to his eyes, the thought of being wanted, the boy who was abandoned in the woods, the boy pushed through the Trial of the Grasses not once, but basically twice, the one told not to feel but fight, become emotionless and composed, become a weapon for the safety of humanity.

Heart full, he pushes Eskel back on the bed. His best friend. His brother in arms. His piece of his soul that he didn't know he was missing, right here, under his nose the whole time. 

Straddled, upon the other young man, he can see Eskel's pupils blown, hear his heartbeat quickened to the pace of a normal humans-

Feel the erection through his breeches.

"Geralt, sorry, I, uh-" 

He smirks, and just kisses Eskel in response. Thankfully, Eskel just kisses him back. It isn't as if his own body isn't humming with anticipation. With a need. With-

"I really hope I'm not interrupting anything important." Vesemir's voice snaps through the doorway like a whip crack, and both boys tumble over each other trying to stand. They manage to get to their feet, and stand at attention facing the old man. The room feels about thirty degrees colder. "After all, you boys wouldn't be lollygagging around when you were supposed to be down for training twenty minutes ago."

Geralt can see Eskel pale out of the corner of his eye. They're fucked. Royally. 

"Apologies, Vesemir, we lost track of the time." He says, staring forward.

"Yes. Lost track of your shirts too." He looks at their beds pushed together, arching an eyebrow. Geralt mentally smacks himself. What else would it look like? It wasn't as if some of the elder Witchers didn't share each others company in such an obvious way, but they weren't Witchers. Not yet. Geralt swallows shallowly.

"We won't be late again, Vesemir, sir." Eskel apologizes, but doesn't dare to move. Not until given some form of a signal from the older man.

"No. You won't. Get downstairs to training. You'll be on cleaning duty this evening. The beams in the hall could use a good dusting." Vesemir states firmly and both want to groan, though they dare not. Satisfied, the old man turns to leave. The boys take that as an indication to scramble for their tunics, fighting doublets, and gear. 

Vesemir waits until they are in the midst of their panicked rush to turn mirthfully towards them. "Oh, and I suppose that someone is going to have to have a talk with you and the other boys about the birds and the bees, and everything in between. So make sure your fellow students know there will be that lecture to look forward to tonight after dinner, boys." 

Vesemir is gone before either of them can say a word.

"Fuck." Geralt breaks the silence first with a groan. He's managed to shrug his tops on and is hurriedly lacing his boots.

"Yeah." Eskel murmurs mournfully, coming up behind him. Softly, he places his hands on Geralt's hips, and the silver haired boy looks back at him, as he straightens. "Not looking forward to cleaning cobwebs half the night."

Geralt twists in his grasp so they're facing each other. "Or telling them that we're going to have a sex talk from Vesemir, as if we all don't properly know how to satisfy ourselves on our own?" He laughs, rolling up on the balls of his feet to plant another kiss on Eskel's lips.The brunette grunts his affirmation as his tongue slides over Geralt's. There's a faint blush still tinting his cheeks, and despite all that's to come for the rest of the evening, Geralt can't help but be happy. For after the cleaning, after the talk, he gets to come back here. 

To Eskel.

Playfully, he nips the other boy's lip, and pirouettes out of his grasp, swatting Eskel on his ass with the flat of his hand. He delights in the shocked peal from his friend's lips.

"Race you down!" Geralt cries, running for the door.

"No fair!" Eskel sputters, still trying to tug his tunic over his head, but laughing all the same. Following him.

Always.


	2. Winter, 1180

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seasons change. Plans change. But hearts don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This work features trans!Geralt. He and Eskel have a thing. If you don't like either of those things, you should probably not read this fic. 
> 
> Full disclosure, I am writing this as a trans man, with basis around my life experiences. My experiences as a trans man are not everyone else's, so I can only write what I know and try to be as respectful as possible. No one ever takes the same path, and I will try to preface each chapter if there are any things that might be triggering in them.
> 
> I try to be as timeline accurate as possible, but I may have some goofs, I'm not sure. I place Witchers leaving on the path at around their 20th year, soooo, there you go. That's just me, whether it's canon or not.
> 
> At this point in the story, the boys have totes been in a relationship for years. Even though it might not be looked upon by others all that fondly. After all, Witchers aren't supposed to have attachments. But Vesemir kind of lets get away with some shit because he loves that kid.

Geralt lays his head back on the pillows, comfortable and sated for the moment. With a contented sigh, he flicks his eyes to the flushed form of his lover and smiles. Both had been spending more and more time inside of their room at Kaer Morhen, waiting for the snow to stop falling outside.

They've talked about this, late at night. What will happen at the end of winter. After all, this is their last season as trainees. Come Spring, they will finally be ready to walk the path for the first time. 

Eskel's eyes are still hazed over with lust, but he carefully lays next to the other man. His chest has a small sheen of sweat on it, and Geralt hums his approval, reaching out to card his fingers through Eskel's dark locks. His lips glisten, and Geralt can smell himself on them. Gently, he leans forward and kisses Eskel, running his tongue over lips and teeth and tongue and sighs. It's hard not to have another go, but even the way that his friend smiles sleepily at him is enough for now.

Will be enough for them as long as it takes.

None of the instructors will like it, of course. All young Witchers are meant to face the path alone. There isn't enough coin for two to walk side by side, but they both have no desire to be apart from each other.

They break apart, and Eskel raises an eyebrow at him.

"Oren for your thoughts?"

"Just thinking about the Path."

Eskel smiles back. Of course it's been on their minds. After the Trials of Grasses, Dreams, and Mountains, they were more than ready. Hell, they'd been ready to go after the final trial. But it was customary for all trainees to have one last Winter at home, glean as much information that they could from others who had walked the paths before them, and to get a feel for the best routes to take come spring.

Eskel has been a meticulous planner, gathering all sorts of information. They both want to make way towards the coast, towards Skellige. They've never seen the sea before. They want to see it together, the shore and the surf, fight drowners and sirens and see whales and sea lions, all the creatures they've only ever read about in books.

They want to see it together.

"It's coming fast now." the raven haired man murmurs, sending a delicious quiver down Geralt's spine. They've had plenty of training, venturing out with various witchers into the mountains to take down ghouls, and kikimoras and even an old griffin. But there's always the unexpected.

It's not so terrifying with the thought of Eskel beside him. He reaches out, and places a calloused hand on his lover's hip, thumb stroking along his hipbone. Eskel growls his appreciation. "What do you think we'll find first?"

"Dunno." The other man whispers, his own hand coming up to cup Geralt's chin. After the Trial of Dreams, he'd started to grow facial hair. Wispy at first, but the other man loved to feel the scratch of it under his fingers. "Should we start small, or?"

"What, you think two Witchers can't take on an ice giant?" Geralt laughs, and Eskel shot him an exasperated look. It was all for show. There is a reason Geralt needs coin, but he doesn't want Eskel to fret over it as well. He tries to deter him with a slight tickle against Eskel's leg, and is rewarded with a stuttered laugh.

"Hmm, if that's what it takes. I'll take on three, with one hand tied behind my back." Eskel affirms, and Geralt chuckles, poking a finger into his side.

"You'll end up as bone broth. Most nutritious meal they'll ever eat." 

"Bah, you doubt my abilities?" Eskel roguishly arches an eyebrow at him, and Geralt flushes. Damn, but the man knows how to get to him. 

"You'd have a better advantage against a three legged goat." He teases, bringing his hand further down, ghosting over Eskel's already half hard cock. 

Eskel gasps, partially mock hurt, partially aroused. They've played this game many a time. Quickly he rolls on top of Geralt, pinning him to the mattress. "A three legged goat you say?"

"Baa baa."

"I'd be careful, little goat, you're quite helpless from where I'm at." Eskel growls, wiggling his groin against Geralt's. The other man moans lightly.

"I've heard that's the custom on Skellige." He murmurs, slightly breathless. He shifts, grabbing Eskel's hips and pulling him closer. An electric shock goes up his core.

Eskel chortles. "If we come across some farmer ploughing a goat in a field, I'm going to Aard his ass into the nearest ravine."

"Agreed."

"As for me-" Eskel growls throatily, and Geralt stares up in appreciation.

"Yes?"

The other man leans lower, breath tickling his ear. "I'm not really interested in goats."

"That's a good thing. I'm not either."

"Hmm?" His tongue flits out over the shell of Geralt's ear and he gasps. Fuck, but Eskel knows how to get him wanting. 

Well, two can play at that game.

"Only wolves." 

Geralt growls lowly in his throat before burying his face in Eskel's neck, sinking his teeth in and sucking. The mewl that rips from Eskel's throat is pure heaven, and his cock twitches against Geralt's own.

"Fuck Geralt, can I-"

He lets go of the other man's neck, smiling. "You don't even need to ask."

Eskel adjusts, sinks into him, and everything is right.

~

The next morning dawns cold. Eskel doesn't grumble, he always tries to remain as stoic as possible as he shivers under the covers, but Geralt can see the pure misery in his eyes. He rubs his love’s arms and shoulders under their blankets, waiting for Ragtop, the ancient rooster of the Keep to crow his piece. 

Until then, they can stay dormant.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just pretend it's a sunny day, right?" Eskel groans, a bit of despair lacing into his voice. "It's gonna be an excellent day for clearing the courtyard."

Geralt rolls on his side, propping his chin on his hand. "You wanna swap and go hunting?"

"No thank you." Eskel snorts, with an exaggerated shiver. "Besides, we all know that Vesemir wants to take his favorite out."

"I don't know about favorite-"

"Geralt, come on." Eskel's thumb brushes against the corner of his mouth. "That old man dotes on you, in his way. Always training you extra hard. You're like a son to him."

It's not completely incorrect. The feeling, even though he's not allowed to nurture it, is mutual. Since coming to Kaer Morhen, it feels like the old man has always been there, watching his back, his forms, his studies. He can even remember his face, neutral mask dropping during the Trial of the Grasses while looking at him.The concern, before shielding again into stoicism.

"We all are, in a way, I suppose." Geralt muses, and Eskel rolls his eyes.

"Sure, you're just saying that to make me feel all warm and fuzzy before I freeze my ass off." He jibes mournfully. 

Geralt loves the feel of the other man's hands on him, the things that Eskel does to him. He doesn't want this to ever end.

"Well, I think I might know a way to help warm you up." Geralt smirks, and leans forward to plant a kiss on Eskel's lips. 

After all, the rooster hasn't crowed yet.

~

"What do you see, Wolf?"

It's become a second nature, his mutations that have enhanced his sight, hearing, and smell. It isn't hard to spot the tracks in the freshly fallen snow.

"Deer. A doe. She's limping. Something must have injured her but she managed to get away. There's no blood, so an old injury?"

"Yes, very good." Vesemir states. His tone is measured, but even Geralt can tell that he's done well. Despite his demeanor, he's always looked up to the other man. Eskel was right, the older Witcher was a father figure to him. After all, he had been the one to find him, to take him back to the keep after his mother had abandoned him. Geralt can't help but grimace at the memory. 

"Is something wrong?" The older man asks, shaking him out of his reverie.

"No, just thinking."

Vesemir's viper eyes stare at him, cold and calculating. "I can see that. Care to share your thoughts?"

"I'd much rather find this deer and get back to the warmth. I'm sure everyone would appreciate fresh meat for dinner." Geralt confides, continuing his silent trudge after their quarry. 

"Yes, yes, all in due time. After all, some prey is easy to take down as one. In some cases, two will be faster. But you can't always rely on that." The older man states coolly, and the words strike like a dagger to the ribs.

Geralt bites the inside of his cheek. This was the old man's true purpose for bringing him out here. "Of course, Vesemir."

Silently, he eases on through the snow, the older man an arms length behind him. The trail branches off, down towards the river. Geralt examines the tracks again. "Something frightened her. Lost her footing. The limp is more pronounced now."

A grunt of approval at his back is the only sign that Vesemir is still there. He presses on.

The doe's smell comes to him before he sees her. He can tell, she's stopped. Geralt steadies himself by a bush and glances out. 

She's drinking from the nearby stream, one hoof daintily up. The leg is scarred, obviously painful. Slowly, he raises a hand and forms Axxi.

_Be still. You are happy._

The doe looks up slightly, but does not move, the sign taking its hold over her. Rapidly, Geralt pulls a steel dagger from his boot.

_I'm sorry._

The throw is expert, she crumples immediately. By the time he reaches her, she is breathing her last, a gaze of calm still settled in her features from the magic. Geralt knows she feels no pain.

He still hates having to take her life.

Vesemir is already finding branches large enough, and Geralt cleans and re-sheathes his dagger before helping the older man. Soon they are putting together a makeshift travois to bring the meat back to the keep.

Their work is silent, before Vesemir speaks, nearly a half hour later.

"Spring will be here before you know it."

Geralt swallows. So, will he try to continue the conversation? "Yes."

"Do you have any questions for me?" Vesemir asks, tying the branches together with a fine jute line. Geralt pauses. Vesemir is old, has walked the path hundreds of times. There are so many questions, but really it only feels like one is important. 

"Do you think I'm ready?"

There's a sharp chuckle from the older man. "Wolf, sometimes I think you were born for the Path. I'm not worried about your journey at all. Save one aspect." His tone turns dark.

Vesemir's eyes flash upon his, and the breath catches in Geralt's throat. "You and Eskel. You know that you can't continue out there as you have here. Maybe I have been too lax with you. After all, it's not uncommon for us to crave company within our ranks. But you and Eskel cannot walk the Path together. You have to focus on the jobs you take, not liabilities."

He can feel his cheek twitching, and he tries hard to curb his emotions. Of course Vesemir would know of their plans. Of course he would. "Eskel and I weren't-" He starts lamely, but something stirs in the older man's eyes. 

"Geralt, don't try to lie to me. I already know. You two have been inseparable since you were children. Now you two plan to walk the Path together. It's not acceptable. We walk alone. That's the way it has always been done. You know that."

He grimaces, but doesn't look up. He knows. It's something that's been hammered in their heads along with how many claws a griffin has and the exact moment to pirouette after a slash. He knows.

Geralt just doesn't care. Damn them all, he doesn't care!

"I can see that stubborn look written all across your features." Vesemir sighs. "This is my fault, I should have separated the two of you long ago. Maybe it would be for the best to separate you now. Or maybe one of you can go this year, and the other can start the Path next year."

"No!" Geralt looks up, true alarm filling his tone. If the older Witchers decide that he and Eskel can no longer room together, can no longer be together- 

Or worse. One of them stays behind. The shame, the ridicule. "We can walk separately. Just, let us have the time we have until the Spring. There's no need for that." The older man doesn't look at him and Geralt lays a hand on his shoulder. Viper eyes flick up to meet his own. 

"Vesemir. We will walk separately." 

The older man stares at him, calculating. 

"I shall think on it. Come now, let's get this deer back. No use freezing our asses off any longer."

Geralt wants to scream. If he has to sit around and think about this, it will be fucking torture. But Vesemir simply starts to tie the doe to the makeshift travois, ignoring the younger man. There's nothing to do but help secure the load and help drag the deer back. 

Once back in the courtyard, he can see the fruits of Eskel, Lambert, and a few of the younger trainees efforts; the flagstones are for the most part cleared and salted enough that they will be able to train outside again. Eskel's head jerks up, and the corners of his mouth tug up in a soft smile. He looks about to drop his broom and make his way to him, but Geralt gives him a terse shake of his head. Instantly, the raven haired man's gaze fills with worry. 

They'll talk of it later. Right now isn't the time. Not with every bit of his patience and resolve feeling so on edge. Geralt can't even trust his voice to come out normally. 

~

"What the hell is going on?" a hissed whisper cuts behind him, and he immediately presses back into Eskel's warmth.

"Had to skin that deer." 

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it. Back in the courtyard- what did Vesemir say to you?"

Geralt chews on the inside of his cheek. They have to talk about this. He knows that they do. He just doesn't know if he has the words for it yet. "Help me heat this water, will you?" The bath tub is filled to the point that they both can get in without it overflowing. Eskel's always been better at controlling his Igni, at least to the point of not evaporating all of the water out of the tub.

"Geralt." Eskel's tone is pleading.

The white haired man turns to stare up into his lover's concerned face. Eskel worries. Constantly. He doesn't always show it, but in their years together, Geralt has learned how to read the other man. 

He sighs, pulling his shirt over his head. "Eskel, come on. I'm cold. Can we just take a bath? Then we can talk."

Eskel's golden eyes flick over him, frowning slightly before going to the tub and making the sign in the water. Steam rises from the vessel, and Eskel turns back to him, wordlessly shucking his own shirt over his head. 

They continue to undress, silently, drinking in the sight of each other. When his lover is standing in front of him, bare as the day the gods made him, he almost feels like crying. How can he be without him, even for a day?

"Geralt?" The concern is etched on Eskel's face. He hates it. The last thing he wants to do is worry him. He unlaces his binder and lets it fall to the floor with his breeches and shirt, before turning away to climb into the tub.

As usual, its a delicious temperature, perfect against the chill in the air. Once he has settled, Eskel climbs in, facing him. With a swallow, Geralt ducks his head under the water. Fuck, this is hard.

When he comes back up, the other man is staring at him, harder than ever. But he can't say anything. He reaches for the soap.

"Geralt!" Eskel snaps, and he pauses, finally looking up into worried eyes. "Are you going to tell me what he said to you, or am I going to have to ask him?"

Melitele's tits, that would be worse. "No, fuck I just-" he heaves a frustrated sigh. Where to start?

Eskel crosses his arms over his chest, face determined. "I don't know what he said to you, but we'll get through it, okay? It won't be too long before we're out of here and we won't have to worry about him or the others until next Winter-"

"Eskel-"

"It'll just be me and you, and no one can tell us what to do." 

"Eskel!"

"We'll do contracts, save up, bed down at night together."

"Eskel, we can't."

For the first time, Eskel looks taken aback, like he's been slapped. "What?"

"You know we can't."

Eskel smiles softly. "I know, we might have to be a little more discreet when it comes to some of the things we do in bed, but surely we can keep simple townsfolk from catching on." He winks.

"Eskel. That's not what I meant. We won't be going on the Path together."

He hates himself even as he says it, watches as Eskel's face crumples. "What are you saying, our plans-"

"All Witchers walk the Path alone. You know that. We have to too."

Eskel just stares at him a moment, before gritting his teeth together. "You don't mean that."

"I do." Geralt looks away, starting to lather himself with the soap. He needs something to do with his hands.

"But our plans, we worked them out-"

"I know." Geralt sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He hates this. Hates that he has to do this, hates that it has to be this way. "But we knew it wasn't going to really happen the way we talked about. It was a nice daydream, but that's all."

"Don't say that. Why would you say that?" Eskel looks nearly frantic now, his stoicism breaking apart under the weight of this bomb. "What the fuck did Vesemir say to you?"

"Vesemir didn't say anything that wasn't the truth."

"But you're seriously considering this? Not traveling together? Being apart? For that fucking long?" There's a hurt fury in the other man's voice that Geralt can't help but agree with. but he also doesn't want to tell him of Vesemir's threats of putting one of them back a year. That will do nothing to make matters any better. 

"There's nothing to consider, Eskel. It's a Witcher's life." He states neutrally, but firmly. It kills him to say it, to watch Eskel's face fall. 

The raven haired man makes a strangled sound in his throat. Geralt hates himself for it. 

"But I, we-"

"We have each other until the Spring. That's just how it is." He reaches out, and touches Eskel's arm. He can feel the other man trembling under his touch. 

"What's that?" Eskel laughs bitterly. "Two? Three more weeks?"

"Hey," Geralt whispers softly, reaching out to cup the other man's face in his hands. His strong jawline, the stubble. Fuck. How will he live without Eskel? 

"That's why we should make the best of the time we have now."

Tears shine in Eskel's eyes, but they don't fall. He's too well trained for that. He laughs bitterly, and just leans forward, kissing his lover as if his life depends on it.

By the time they get out of the tub, from clutching at each other, the water's gone cold. Eskel doesn't even complain.

~

"You take the path I routed."

"Eskel."

"I insist."

"But you worked so hard-"

"And at least I'll have an idea of where you might be. The Path is ever changing but. . . fuck. For me. Please, just do it for me."

"Okay. I will. I promise."

A kiss. 

One more week.

~

"Belleteyn. I think I'll be in Novigrad."

"What?" 

"I always wanted to see the ocean. Probably be able to get passage to Skellige from there too. I also think that I can get there by Belleteyn."

Geralt just stares at Eskel in slight confusion. It's never wise to make plans for where one might be at any given time.

But then it clicks.

"Belleteyn, eh?" Geralt scours the map, mouth curving upwards. "Well, I need to head Novigrad at some point. Find that barber surgeon. See his rates. Know how much he's going to fleece me for." He knocks his shoulder into Eskel's. "Might as well get it done sooner than later."

Eskel smiles.

"I still want to see the ocean with you."

"I know."

"We will."

There's no doubt in Geralt's mind that yes, they will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to do a shout out; if you haven't read dreadelion's 'Young Wolves', you really need to. When I was first trying to find anything featuring trans!Geralt this story spoke volumes to me.
> 
> I also love Dira Sudis' 'The Axii Loop'. Not featuring a trans character, but they are just so good and in character and I love these boys.
> 
> (Also, in case anyone has issues with my trans!Geralt: I am a trans man. I don't speak for everyone's experiences, but I am trying to speak from my own feelings. I don't focus on his transness; whereas Geralt is a trans man in my story, I don't want it to be the focus of the story.)


	3. Fall, 1184

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel waits and reflects. 
> 
> And worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This work features trans!Geralt. He and Eskel have a thing. If you don't like either of those things, you should probably not read this fic. 
> 
> Full disclosure, I am writing this as a trans man, with basis around my life experiences. My experiences as a trans man are not everyone else's, so I can only write what I know and try to be as respectful as possible. No one ever takes the same path, and I will try to preface each chapter if there are any things that might be triggering in them.
> 
> This is essentially the chapter in which Geralt gets top surgery. I've left out anything gory, Eskel is not present for the procedure. It's much like when my own husband had his surgery. Just a lot of thinking and worrying. And knowing everything is going to be better in the end. <3

He shouldn't be nervous, but he is. It's been several years coming, but finally, the day has come. Still, Eskel can only pace the antechamber of the barber surgeon's practice while waiting for Geralt's procedure to finish. 

The price had been astronomical, at least for two Witchers starting out on the path. It had taken four years to gather the funds for the surgery, and that had been with Eskel's help. Geralt himself had been prideful; he had wanted to pay for it all on his own. At least he'd seen reason when his lover had appealed to the fact that it would take twice as long without two incomes. 

Eskel would never admit it, but it had been a hard several years, and he'd been scolded more than once by Geralt and Vesemir over needing new clothes or to repair his armor and weapons more often. But Eskel could use a needle and thread and was nothing if not resourceful. Where he could, he gathered extra herbs to sell, scoured areas of skirmish for things of value. Anything for coin to help. Sleeping in a barn next to his horse was nothing compared to a cold Kaer Morhen winter.

It would all be worth it to see the smile on Geralt's face when this all was over.

He glances at the far door, wondering how far along the surgeon is. How much longer there is to go. He'd wanted to be in there with Geralt, but Belkin, the barber surgeon, had expressly forbidden it.

_'I don't need someone staring over my shoulder while I work. You wouldn't want me tagging along while you work, beheading barghests and gutting ghouls, darling. He'll be fine.'_

He knows. But still, the thought of Geralt, alone and helpless in another room, it's maddening. It's too close to the thought of them as kids, strapped down and being force fed the herbs, the sickness and the dying all around.

Gods, how had Geralt gone through the grasses more than once?

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor." A sweet voice states at his elbow, and it's everything he can do to not tense into a fighting stance.

His worried eyes flick to the surgeon's attendant, holding out a steaming mug to him. For a moment he feels a little shocked. Just the fact that he hadn't noticed the woman's scent or presence normally would distress, him had she not been someone that he'd met when they'd first come in the building. It was just a testament to his focus being completely shot.

"Sorry. 'm just-"

She shakes her blonde tresses and chuckles lightly. "Worried? I know. Belkin's done this many a time though. You've nothing to worry about. Especially you Witchers. You'll live through anything!" She laughs softly, offering the cup. "Lavender mint. Thought it might settle your nerves."

"Thanks." He murmurs, fingers barely touching hers as he takes the tea. He can't stop his gaze from flicking back towards the door, even as he takes a sip. It's warm, delicious, but it does little to stop his worries.

"-means a lot to you."

Eskel blinks. She'd been talking again. Vesemir would have plenty of things to say if he could see the way one of his pupils was acting. Instead, he tries to brush it off. " 'm sorry, I didn' hear what you just said."

"It's okay. Eskel, was it? I'm Arina. I think we met once before at the start of this process. I was just remarking on how much Geralt must mean to you." There's something in her ice blue eyes that seems to say more, but he leaves it unsaid.

Normally, he'd be much more guarded. _Witchers don't feel._ He can hear the teachings that had practically been branded into his body echoing dully in his mind. But this.

It's not as if the woman hasn't seen him agonizing all morning in the waiting room. "Yeah." He affirms. "We grew up together. He means a lot to me."

Arina gives him a knowing look and he can feel a slight blush start to tinge his cheeks. His cheeks do little in the way of coloring, but he still feels slightly helpless. He hasn't spent a lot of time around women, but they always tend to make him feel a little awkward, like he's going to do or say something wrong. 

"He's very lucky you know. It's not an easy procedure to go through alone. It's definitely nice to have a little help, Witcher or no." She confides, eyes flicking slightly to the side.

There's something in her tone, that keys Eskel in to her meaning. He's not sure if something shifts in the tone of her voice, or if there's a tenseness in her cheek, a slight nuance. But still he says nothing. He knows it's rude, that it's not something to question. 

Regardless, he knows that she's like Geralt.

Moments pass, and she smiles. "You are a silent one. Most folks take the bait." 

"Like I said, I've been with Geralt a long time. He doesn't like when people notice it about him. I can only imagine it's that way for others."

"You are a good man. Too bad you aren't single." she sighs, a small bit of longing creeping into her tone. Now he does blush. Arina laughs, a pure sound. "Don't worry about it, pretty sure I'm not your type anyway."

If she's inferring that his type is Geralt, well, yes. But he still says nothing, tongue feeling three sizes too big for his mouth. Quickly, he takes another sip of his tea, scalding his tongue. 

To his credit, he doesn't wince.

"Oh, you're cute, but I'll stop playing. He's going to be fine. By this point Belkin should be finishing up anyways." She reaches out a hand for the teacup and he hands it over. "I know Belkin went over all of the aftercare with you and likely he will again, but please, make sure to ask if you have any questions at all."

"Thanks. I will. I promise." He means it. There's nothing he won't do for Geralt. She smiles softly and sashays off, but he hardly notices.

Absentmindedly, he kneels to the side of the room. He needs to stop pacing, and he doubts that he'll be able to unless he forces himself. Not that he'll be able to meditate easily either though.

Eskel closes his eyes, tries to free his mind. Thinks of nothing. Ends up thinking of everything.

_Hot apple tarts. A rare treat in Kaer Morhen, made from apples haggled from farmers in White Orchard. The night he'd come to the keep, wide eyed and afraid. A small ginger boy with freckles across his nose, shyly sneaking over to where he stood, terrified, offering him half._

_"I'm Geralt. Don't worry, it's not that bad here!" He'd smiled broadly. He'd had gaps from losing his baby teeth, but his two front teeth still prominently remained, like a rabbit's. Eskel's stomach had rumbled, and he'd gratefully accepted the tart._

_Another memory, running the gauntlet. Boys yelling to the right and the left of him, panic, arrows whizzing by his head. Geralt pushing him out of the way of something large and heavy whooshing by. "We can do this, c'mon Es!"_

_Battered and triumphant at the end of the day, arms slung around each other's necks._

_Beds pushed together. Whispering their fears. The grasses. Would they die? Corvin, Andel, Morwen, they'd all passed away on the last cycle. No one ever spoke of them anymore._

_Eskel can't imagine not thinking of Geralt, ever again._

_Geralt's second administration of the grasses. How upset, how much Eskel had wanted to scream, to stop it. But there was nothing he could do, nothing in a castle full of Witchers. They were tools, ever sharpened to be used._

_How he'd held back tears when he'd seen Geralt's gaunt face, how small he looked, even after training. The grasses just made a person look like a ghost. He'd leaned forward, noted Geralt's breathing and let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding in._

_Then he noticed the streaks of white in that copper hair._

_He kept himself but crying, but had shakily leaned forward, kissed his best friend's forehead-_

The Witcher's eyes snap open as the surgeon's door finally creaks outwards. "Your friend is finally ready to see you." Belkin states. Eskel is already halfway across the room to him when Belkin finally emerges.

"Can I? Now?" Eskel asks, and Belkin moves to the side to let him in.

"He's still a little out of it, but that will fade. Just be gentle with him. He'll need to rest for awhile."

Eskel is through the door before the man can say another word. He has to be with Geralt now. The white haired man had been all nervous anticipation, the day had finally dawned and him not knowing how to feel. Eskel knew that some changes would never happen for Geralt, but this one was severely important. To never have to wear the piece of binding cloth over his chest again that constricted his movement in a fight- they'd both breathe a sigh of relief once this was finished.

Once Geralt could be one step closer to feeling like he was in a body that belonged to him.

Eskel pauses once he sees the medical cot in the middle of the dimly lit room. Everything smells clean, all traces of blood gone from the area. Slowly, he stalks up to the other man, suddenly afraid to wake him.

"Hey, Es." Geralt murmurs softly, sleepily. His eyes are small golden slits, barely open.

"Hey." He reaches out gently, to run a finger over the back of Geralt's hand, and barely gets a reaction, other than a soft hum.

Memories of the Trial of the Grasses sting behind his eyes, the sickness, and the all around awfulness of being bedridden and ill while changes wracked their bodies. But Geralt looks at peace, a tired smile playing at his lips. It's obvious he's still under the influence of Belkin's sedative herbs, pupils unfocused even as he watches Eskel through lidded eyes. He brushes a strand of silvery hair away from Geralt's forehead, and his lover stares up at him and smiles.

"How're you feelin'?"

"Better." Geralt murmurs, and Eskel smiles.

"Good."

Geralt's gaze flicks down to his bandaged chest, and his smile grows wider. There is a long moment where he doesn't say anything, just reaches out for Eskel's hand, and he takes it, stroking his own rough fingers over sword worn calluses. 

There are tears in Geralt's eyes, as he stares sleepily up at his lover. "I'm better, Es." He breathes, and the darker haired man's breath hitches in his throat. "I'm me." A tear, finally ekes from the corner of his eye, leaving a moist trail down the side of his cheek. 

But it's not from sadness.

Geralt, tired after the surgeon's work, is glowing like he never has before. With a soft smile, Eskel brings his own forehead down to the white haired Witchers.

"Yeah." Eskel murmurs, tears of his own starting to fall: gratitude, relief, love.

This moment has been years in the making, and finally it's come true. Eskel leans down and gently brushes his lips over Geralt's forehead. His lover hums happily back at him.

Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me at orcbae and ricomposed on twitter for more Witcher shitposting and art!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me as orcbae on twitter, instagram and tumblr. I also post art (some Witcher stuff) to my art Twitter, ricomposed!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
